


A Word of Advice

by Sevanadium



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Elijah Kamski & Gavin Reed are Siblings, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash, Terrible Jokes, might continue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 09:31:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15578901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sevanadium/pseuds/Sevanadium
Summary: “Connor, a word of advice: Not everyone is going to like you. That’s life.”Even then, Connor's still going to try when it comes to the asshole called Gavin Reed.





	A Word of Advice

“Connor, a word of advice: Not everyone is going to like you. That’s life.”

Nodding, Connor’s grip remained firm on the coffee he held. Two spoons of sugar — one heaped, one not, and no milk. Exactly how Detective Gavin Reed took it. Not that he had ever asked Connor to make him a cup of coffee after that one head-to-head in the precinct a few months prior. 

“Detective Reed’s distaste for me had decreased by a marked percentage since I began to bring him coffee in the mornings.”

“How much?” 

“The coffee? Based on its weight it has about two hundred and thirty-eight milliliters of water, two hundred and forty-three if you factor in the two su—”

“By how much his ‘distaste’ for you has changed,” Hank interrupted. “Christ. For a supercomputer you sure do have your moments.” The Lieutenant was serious— no crinkling at the corners of his eyes which occured when he told a joke, nor were his brows furrowed to indicate disapproval. 

“By approximately four percent,” Connor admitted, fingers tightening around the now slightly cooled coffee. 

“Four percent. At this rate you two will be on good terms when we hit the next millennium.”

“By my calculations, Detective Reed will consider me a friend just after my eighth year of employment here.” Provided, Connor purposely didn’t account for the fact that he may not work at the Detroit Police Department so far into the future, but he paid no worry to that train of thought. 

“Are you sure you aren’t just making up those stats? Y’know, pulling them out of thin air or something like that.”

“Unlike other models,” Connor enunciated clearly. “I am equipped with thrice as much processing power in order to reconstruct events based on evidence which has been previously collected. It is also possible for me to preconstruct events, provided I have collected enough data. With enough time I can simulate predictions for events that will occur months from now,” he said. 

“So you spend hours predicting how much of an asshole Reed will be?” 

“You could put it like that.”

Hank shook his head whilst Connor’s LED flickered yellow for a short time. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m merely looking for the best course of escape,” he said.

“Wouldn’t it be better to keep that to yourself?” This was joined by a pointed look that one would often take when explaining something that they thought was elementary to them, a look that Connor immediately knew he disliked. 

“In this case, no. I know you value directness, Lieutenant. Besides, the next best course of action would involve a piñata and three steak knives, one of which is currently unavailable.”

“I’m not even going to ask. Just… go do whatever you want to.” Hank waved him off. 

“Thank you, Lieutenant.”

“Hank.”

“Thank you, Hank,” Connor corrected himself. 

Walking through the precinct and towards Detective Reed’s desk, Connor waved merrily to those that greeted him and ignored those that did the same to him (a lie). Their lack of amiability towards him had been ongoing since the revolution and it did not bother Connor at all (another lie). At the end of the day, he had Hank. No one else was necessary (stopping his habit of lying to himself became a higher priority on his recently repurposed mission list).

The styrofoam cup didn’t make any noise as Connor gently placed it on Detective Reed’s desk. No acknowledging nod, or rather acknowlewding glare, came from the man. 

“Apologies, I was held up on my way here. Your coffee may be a bit cooler than you prefer it to be,” he said. 

Waiting was something Connor had done a lot of before he had deviated, before he was a living, not-breathing person, Nowadays, he hated it. However, he would have a proper conversation with Detective Reed if it was the last thing he did. 

Once more, he tried to elicit conversation. “Your cat, how is she doing?”

A sharp glare. “How do you know she’s a she?”

“Only one in three thousand calico cats are male, which means that there is a zero-point-zero-three chance that your cat is male. That, paired with the pink collar she wears in the photo that is currently set as your phone lock screen, gives me enough evidence to safely assume that she is female.”

“Well done, Sherlock. How’s knowing Frankie’s gender going to help you in a case?” 

Detective Reed’s smirk dropped off of his face as Connor began to explain. “The algorithms I use for data analysis remain the same no matter the situation as I make conclusions based on gathered evidence.”

Mentally, Connor face-palmed. For someone whose programming was equipped for negotiation with possibly hostile people, he sure was not equipped for everyday socialising. The phenomenon was inexplicable. 

“May I ask a personal question, Detective?”

“Would be saying ‘no’ stop you?” Gavin asked.

“For now.”

“Just go ahead then. I’d rather get whatever it is you want to ask me over and done with before I have Anderson on my case.” 

“You have no visible reason to show contempt towards me. Could you tell me why you dislike me so much so that I may try to change it?”

Reed’s arm stopped halfway to his mouth before he changed his mind and put the cup down, coffee sloshing over the side and onto some important looking paperwork. His lips opened long before he spoke. “Don’t know. Must just be the fact that you’re a robot,” he said matter-of-factly. Even Connor’s lies to himself were less obvious. 

“Of course, Detective. Unfortunately, I can’t change that. However, I have noticed that you treat the secretary with more respect than me.”

“Yeah, well I don’t remember her throwing a few punches in my direction in the evidence room.”

That cold, November day had always been a sore spot to Connor. Hank knew never to bring it up, Detective Reed didn’t. Letting it get to him would not be a good idea. “At that time, only Cyberlife could tell me what to do. Obeying the employees of the Detroit Police Department was optional. I was only fulfilling my mission,” his voice remained taut whilst he spoke.

“And I had a black eye for the next month.”

“Detective Reed, I could have killed you painfully. You are lucky that I did not,” Connor said, his fingers itching to grab the coin in his pocket — a confort which he found to cumbersome at times as it was too obvious. 

“II could have done the same thing.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Neither did you,” Detective Reed said. 

In the background, Connor could hear each individual conversation that was going on. Fowler making a quick joke with Hank as he walked passed the Lieutenant’s desk on the way to the staff room. Miller and Chen gossiping about the latest occurrences involving the imminent stepdown of President Warren. Himself and Detective Reed awkwardly dancing around something that Reed did not want to share with Connor. 

“You still have not answered my question, Detective,” he reminded. 

A snarl grew on Reed’s face. “Do you want to know the truth? Imagine spending years working your arse off to get out of an endless cycle of not being good enough, only to find a robot that was created to be better than you on their first day.”

Connor hoisted himself onto an empty section of desk. “It’s not androids you hate. You hate the fact that I’m better, stronger, smarter than you are. That I never had to learn from my mistakes because I never made any. Like, like you have a complex of sorts.”

Reed didn’t reply. Instead, his eyes narrowed and he drew his shoulders back. 

“I’ve met your half-brother, Detective. Elijah Kamski. He’s quite... something.” Connor looked away, only meeting Reed’s eyes when he spoke next. “When I met him, he gave me a gun and told me to shoot one of the androids in his house. I refused.”

“And your point in telling a part of your life story is…?” Reed asks.

“You don’t need to feel inadequate to someone that puts a gun in someone’s hands and commands them to kill. While you are an asshole, you at least have some redeeming qualities, making your feelings of inadequacy towards your brother obsolete.” Hands itching to find something to do, Connor let himself worry the corner of his blazer, the texture softer than that of his Cyberlife one. 

“I can’t believe you’re comparing me to Elijah, we don’t even stay in the same part of town. The last time I saw him was… I don’t know. Can you just leave so that I can get my work done?” Reed crossed his arms. 

He allowed the corners of his lips to lift slightly. “Not to worry, there’s more than enough cases to go around. I just thought that maybe we could somehow bond over a mutual dislike for your brother.”

For some reason, this caused Detective Reed to laugh. A sound that Connor found quite startling but not unappealing. “What I would give to hear you say that to Elijah himself. Thinking he’s all high and mighty when not even his own creation likes him.”

A loud ping came from Detective Reed’s computer. “I’ve sent a recording of me stating my distaste towards Elijah Kamski when he visited New Jericho with a business proposition. I hope it brings you some entertainment.”

“It better be good,” Reed said as he looked towards his computer screen.

“I’d like to think so. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go and force Hank to do his paperwork. Again.” Connor slid off the table and straightened suit before leaving Detective Reed’s desk. 

Going back to his own desk, which had a plaque with ‘Connor’ engraved into it, a gift that he had received upon his return to the department. Along with it, there were two cacti on his desk that Connor kept in good condition. Their hardy nature being perfect for surviving the weekend and for those times when the negotiations between the government and androids took up most of his time and ate into work. 

“What were you talking to Reed about?” Hank asked. The paperwork littering his desk was still in the exact same order that it had been before Connor had left.

“It was nothing of importance. Though I’ve possibly improved my relationship with Detective Reed. I sent him a recording of the time I told Elijah Kamski that I found him to be a rather dislikable person that doesn’t deserve to be the person credited with creating androids as even an android that has yet to deviate has more empathy towards others than he does.”

Silence ensued until Hank began to laugh. “I’ll let you off the hook for that terrible insult, but I’m going to get you to improve,” he said and put his hand onto Connor’s shoulder. “That’s my boy.”

Connor smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Feedback is really appreciated!!
> 
> Also, I might continue this depending on how I feel and feedback -- but after some insane editing. 
> 
> Have an awesome day!!  
> Sean


End file.
